


The Power of Spirits

by Gabriel_Sage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel_Sage/pseuds/Gabriel_Sage
Summary: Albus Dumbledore said that the power Voldemort knew not would be love. However, in the grand scheme of things, love is not a weapon. And thanks to his relatives' 'love', Harry died. But perhaps ghosts had more power than people gave them credit for—now if Harry could only learn to use it...





	1. The Catalyst

     "UP, BOY!" Harry flinched but began dragging his feet up the stairs where his Uncle was pointing. He had been avoiding having a confrontation with Uncle Vernon for several days now, and it looked like this time he had truly been unlucky. Perhaps if he changed his pace and was quicker, he’d be able to make a barricade or shimmy down the outside of the house? He immediately moved faster the moment he heard the stomping thuds of him heading up after him. He entered his room and scrambled to shut the door, hoping that he'd be able to set up a blockade fast enough.

     But it was not to be, as Vernon took that moment to burst through the door, it slamming against the wall. Harry immediately dropped the chair, hoping against hope that he hadn’t seen it. But by the way the man’s piggy eyes were lingering upon it, that hope could be dashed as well.

     "I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU, POTTER! FOR DAYS YOU'VE BEEN AVOIDING YOUR PUNISHMENTS, BUT NOW YOU’LL GET WHAT’S BEEN COMING TO YOU!" Harry shrank away as his Uncle stomped forward, but within moments he felt the wall against his back; his Uncle smirked. The next moment, he was reeling from the powerful cuff to the side of his head. The pain struck a moment later. "THAT'S FOR EVADING ME JUST NOW!" Another fist made brutal contact with his gut, and Harry gasped, instinctively doubling over. "AND THAT WAS FOR THE CHAIR!" The punches and kicks rained down then, and Harry curled into a ball, trying to protect whatever he could of himself. But a scant minute later, he finally felt his consciousness beginning to ebb, and was glad. This would be over, at least, until he next woke.

* * *

     Vernon Dursley peered clinically down at the prone form of his nephew, four minutes later. It appeared that the brat had finally lost consciousness. But to confirm this, he flipped him into his back with a sharp kick to the ribs. He checked under one eyelid, and nodded sharply upon finding it unresponsive. For a moment, something suspiciously like concern bloomed in his chest, but he then immediately quashed it. Pity and guilt had no place where freaks were concerned. And then he saw something pale floating out of Potter's mouth, and he jumped back, not wanting to be touched by the freakishness. He quickly left for the kitchen.

     "Petunia, that freak is doing his freaky stuff again! Probably putting something on all of us!" Petunia looked up from the roast she was rubbing, her eyes flashing.

     "I'll see to him." Vernon felt a flare of love and respect fill his heart for her. She truly did know best. She understood the needs of children intimately, having grown up as the overlooked one. All one needed to do was look at how well their Dudders had turned out to see that! Vernon followed Petunia as she stepped up the stairs, and as they passed his room, Dudley came out as well. Naturally, they let him. After all, a little shame wouldn't hurt anyone where the freak was concerned. Petunia yanked the door open, and behind them all, Dudley shut it. And they watched in at first astonishment, then shock as the cloud of mist slowly assumed the form of their horrid relative, who gaped down at his colored likeness. Unnoticed by all of them, the door slowly and silently opened, a dark shadow stiffening in the doorframe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun Dun Dun!!! Who is the mysterious dark shadow?


	2. An Alteration of Perceptions

     Severus Snape was annoyed; no, he was peeved! He'd been three-quarters finished with brewing an extremely complex potion, and Albus Dumbledore had had the gall to interrupt! And now he was here, striding down a street with creepily similar houses!

* * *

  ** _Flashback:  _ **

_Severus frowned in deep concentration, cubing mandrake roots into perfect centimeters. It was a task which required finesse and agile fingers, something which he was quite skilled at. He nodded sharply to himself when he had the required amount, then went about lightly sprinkling them into his cauldron, interspersed with one quick flick and one slow spin clockwise, then another speedy swirl anti-clockwise. He had nearly completed this step, when suddenly—_

"Severus!" _Severus jerked at the unexpected shout, the entirety of the remaining handful falling into the cauldron._ BOOM!!! _Severus slowly turned around, dripping in fluorescent blue muck._

_"Headmaster!" Severus growled in aggravation._

_"Severus! The wards at Privet Drive have fallen! In all likelihood, Harry's probably just thought of somewhere else as more of a home, but I need you to check on him, and if need be to cast different wards over their home." Severus glowered at the annoying intruder, and vanished the substance coating him._

_"Headmaster, why can't you go yourself? Can't you see that I am busy?"_

_"I've got piles of paperwork, Severus. You know what a Headmaster has to do every summer. All the budgets and the like for the upcoming year have to be settled. Besides, I don't see you doing anything," he stated, and Severus glare grew even stronger._

_"That's because you startled me and made it blow up!"_

_"Oh? My condolences then, for your loss.” Dumbledore did actually look apologetic for that, so Severus didn’t think about the wording. The Headmaster would be the Headmaster. His glare simmered down into a glower, and he started for the door to his lab. "Fine. I'm going. But if I lose my spying position, it's on your head!"_

**_ End of flashback: _ **

* * *

     Which was how Severus found himself here, grumbling under his breath about the wasted potion and time. Which number was theirs again? Ah yes, four. Here was number twelve, the number made him even more annoyed...ten, the number of Phoenix tears it took to make the now wasted potion...eight, the number of days it took to make it...six, the number of other people in the Dark Lord’s Inner Circle...four, the number of marauders and the home of one Harry Potter. Not bothering to knock, he let himself in the front door and decided to head up the stairs. No teenager would want to be outside on a day like this. Besides, a door up there had just closed. The first room was full of items but empty of humans. The second room was a bathroom. The third had multiple locks down it and a cat flap, and he nearly bypassed it, except that he heard the shifting of something heavy. This was likely Potter then, perhaps doing something with a pet? He silently opened the door—and stiffened, his mind initially disbelieving, before he shook it, forcing himself to. Potter...Potter was— _dead_! Potter was gaping at his dead body, obviously a ghost. And his muggle relatives were gaping at him. None of them had realized he was there yet, watching them all. The man who must have been his uncle was turning purple. Finally, Potter spoke.

     "You killed me." It was hardly a whisper, but it set the man off.

     "Boy! Whatever hoodwinking you are doing, quit it right now! I won't have it!"

     " _You actually killed me_ ," Potter repeated a little louder, still staring at his body as if he couldn't quite believe it.

     "BOY!" The man struck at the apparition, only to lose balance as his fist went right through him. But it drew Potter's attention.

     "YOU KILLED ME!" He shouted, and there was suddenly a light chill wind that seemed to pick up. "YOU KILLED ME, I'LL KILL _YOU!_ "

     "No you most certainly will not, Potter!" Snape shouted, and everyone started, only now realizing his presence. Although now the violent uncle's features were taking on a more twisted lilt, evidently seeing him as a target that actually existed in the physical plane.

     "You! Freak! Get out of my house!"

     "I will not," Snape sneered. "I fully intend to bring the boy's things and body with me, and if possible, his ghost. Of course, he may decide to stick around to haunt you and be called insulting names, but I would assume he would prefer to stay at Hogwarts instead. And you wouldn't want to deal with a body clearly showing he was beaten to death by overlarge fists." Snape's eyes now possessed a sort of fire in them.

     "Of course not! Take the freak's body if it means that much to you! All we'd do is dump him in a river anyway." Snape nodded jerkily and shrank his body, before placing it in a matchbox and into his pocket.

     "Hey, I was still staring at that!" Potter complained.

     "Then come back to Hogwarts and continue to stare at your moldering body with morbid fascination. Perhaps I'll even embalm and preserve it so you can keep staring at it until you finish your unfinished business."

     "Good luck with that," Potter snorted. "My unfinished business is to kill off Voldemort and have revenge on the Dursleys, but you’re obviously going to keep me from that." Snape smirked, pleased he got a chance to hex the muggles. He may not like Potter, but they had killed a child regardless, and he hated child killers.

     "Perhaps I can help." He turned his wand on the rapidly paling Dursleys, and after waving it once towards each of them and then as he sequentially performed a broad sweep over them all, they suddenly clenched their stomachs.

     "Um, what did you do?" Harry questioned, not seeing a difference.

     "I cast a spell on Tuney that she would always be seen in the worst light." Petunia’s slim hand shot to her mouth as if she were going to be sick. "I also placed a curse on Whale Senior so people would naturally dislike him. Good luck selling things now." Snape grinned sharkishly, and Harry had to hold in a slight shudder, despite his glee. If this was how he looked when he smiled, then he was glad he stuck to frowning.

     "You–you-" Vernon spluttered, by now having bypassed the color purple altogether and rapidly approaching a shade alarmingly similar to a very dark puce.

     "But _nothing_ ," Snape hissed, lifting his wand. Vernon instantly stopped in his tracks, and Snape leered twistedly. "And Whale Junior is jinxed so people will see him as he truly is." Dudley paled, but aside from that, there was no major reaction from the three.

     "And people will all know without a doubt that he is an angel!" Petunia hissed at him, balling her fists by her side. Snape tsked, shaking his head, his hair shipping back and forth slightly.

     "Au contraire, Tuney. I’m afraid you and your…husband are in for a very rude awakening. Perhaps the world will be lucky and the pair of you will commit suicide after seeing clearly just what sort of monster you've raised." Severus had used Legilimency very lightly on all of them the moment they'd learned of his presence to read their surface thoughts regarding Potter, and he was, to put it frankly, disgusted.

     "Wait a minute," Harry frowned. "You waved your wand _four_ times."

     "Ah, _that_ ," Snape sneered, this time it looking truly evil and demented. "I’m glad you pointed that out, Potter. Shame your observation skills didn’t kick in until _after_ you died, but at least they did at some point. What went on in the last working of magic, I fed them one of my creations. What few accept or believe Potter, is that all living things are descendants of wizards or magical creatures. After all, how else can they live, if not that? Which is why magic can work on them as well. Unfortunately for them, they don't have enough to actually _do_ anything. But what this potion does, is enhance magic. Which means that they are now magical." This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, and suddenly the bastards weren’t satisfied with remaining complacent any longer.

     "NO WE BLOODY WELL AREN’T!" Vernon shouted, and suddenly the window shattered. Petunia shrieked in a mix of horror and terror, and the window suddenly fixed itself. She whipped around to face Snape, her face bloodless.

     "Fix this!" She screeched, and Snape laughed manically, sending chills down every person's spine there, even Harry's incorporeal one.

     "I'll fix your magic—when you fix _this!_ " He waved the matchbox at them. "Oh, wait, he's _dead!_ And you can't bring back the dead! Oh my, it looks like you're stuck like that _forever!_ "

     "Get out, both of you! You and your freakish things!" Petunia screamed, and suddenly Severus found himself sitting on the curb, Potter's trunk next to him. He suddenly shuddered as something cold went through him, and he looked up.

     "Potter, do me a favor and get out of my body!" He growled. Potter jumped, and immediately retreated, extricating his intangible torso from his own.

     "And stay out!" Petunia's shrill voice carried over the lawn to them. Severus glared at her, then carefully stood, wincing as his back twinged.

     "Well, that backfired somewhat." He muttered, and Potter snickered.

     "Yeah, you got booted out onto the curb!" Severus glared at Potter, who looked completely unrepentant.

     "Don't laugh, Potter. You were kicked out too." Severus looked down at the small pile of Potter’s things, and in a moment, they were all shrunken and moved into his pocket as well. "Now Potter, focus on going through a hole, where its other end shows the gates of Hogwarts." Potter's eyes narrowed.

     "Why?" Severus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

     "Merlin, you were so much better behaved when you were actually alive." Then he sighed again and stared up into Potter's face, level with his eyes for once. "You don't _have_ to do anything Potter, but I'm assuming you want to go back to Hogwarts."

     "No, I mean, why do I have to focus on the gates, and not some other place in the castle?"

     "Because just like apparition, a ghost cannot just materialize in Hogwarts. They have to be tied to the wards before they can enter at all, for that matter." Potter nodded, and squeezed his eyes shut. A moment later, Potter _poofed_ away. Severus followed suit, with only a small pop akin to bubble wrap.


	3. Homecoming

     Severus reappeared just outside the Hogwarts gates, and shuddered as he discovered he had popped up right in Potter.

     "I do believe it is my turn to say to get out of my body, Professor." Severus sneered at the boy. Death had done nothing good for his mouth. If anything, it had only gotten ten times worse. Regardless, Severus quickly exited his ex-student’s incorporeal form, and scowled at his smirk.

     "I was moving anyway, Potter. Don’t think you made me move." He turned to the large cast iron gates and placed his palm on the clasp. “Open.” Had anyone not authorized to do such tried that, their hand would have been burned and they would have been thrown several meters back. As it was, a slight tingle buzzed through his body, identifying him for who he was, before the gates opened with a soft _whoosh_. Immediately, Potter flew past him in an attempt to get in, but was abruptly stopped. Severus smirked and walked past him, before turning back.

     "Hmm, to let you through or not to," he drawled, immensely enjoying the dawning panic on Potter’s face.

     "Come on! You’ve got to let me in!" Potter cried out, and Severus tilted his head.

     "I do, do I?" He purred, and Potter’s cheeks became tinged with silver. "Say please, and I’ll think about it." Potter groaned, shutting his eyes. Then they opened, and Severus nearly started at the puppy dog eyes he was displaying. He almost gagged at the cuteness.

     " _Please_ , Snape?"  

     "Hmm," Severus stated, then turned away, taking several steps away and trying to keep from laughing.

     "Hey! I said please!" Potter shouted at him. Severus paused, not turning around.

     "And I said that is would think about it." Then he felt the chill and slight wind begin to pick up, and he finally let go of his control on his mirth before Potter did something stupid like freeze him solid, and he turned back around. Potter no longer looked angry, rather grimacing at the harsh sound of his grating laughter. It _had_ been a while. "Fine. You can come in." Potter spun head over heels several times through the air as the block vanished, then coasted affrontedly past him. Severus followed behind, but at a more leisurely pace. There was a reason the ghosts were never on the grounds, and he had no need to speed up to keep with Potter. He was rather surprised he wasn’t feeling anything about Potter’s death, but it was possibly due to a mix of the fact that the annoying boy was still in existence and he still seemed to have some powers which would allow him to kill the Dark Lord. That, and the fact that he hadn't really liked him to start with. Although, he wouldn’t be able to say the same thing about the Headmaster. When he eventually arrived at the front gate, he found Potter just as he expected, sitting impatiently on the front steps.

     "Why can’t I get in?" He demanded, and Severus sighed, holding open the door. Potter approached with a caution that made Severus wonder how many times he’d bashed his skull against the door before learning his lesson, and then sighed in evident relief as he was able to enter.

     "Potter, have you truly never wondered why the ghosts are never on the grounds, or in the common rooms?"

     "No," Potter admitted.

     "There are wards on the outer walls of the castle to keep people out, along with the walls on bathrooms and the common rooms. Naturally, if the door is open you can simply glide through it, but otherwise, there is no exception. Unless you want to take a leaf out of Myrtle’s book and travel via drainpipes." Potter groaned.

     "Oh no…"

     "What is it, Potter? It could hardly be worse than _dying_ , and you seem plenty chuffed about that." Severus snapped. Potter’s eyes narrowed.

     "Hey, dying’s not all that bad! No hunger, no pain, no responsibility! You should really try it some time, its _far_ better than my life ever was. And see, I don’t even need a broom to fly now!" Severus rolled his eyes as Potter did a midair flip.

     "Certainly. So, what is wrong, if it isn’t that you’re dead?" Potter sighed.

     "When I was about to jump down into the Chamber of Secrets, Myrtle offered to share her toilet with me if I died! What now?"

     "Girl problems. I’m quite glad I’ve never had situations like that of my own. Now come along, we need to meet the Headmaster." Severus deliberately detoured by the second floor to head up a different route to the Headmaster's office, but to his disappointment, Myrtle did not make an appearance.

     "You did that on purpose!" Potter hissed, and Severus gave a short nod.

     "Indeed." He continued on, and internally smirked when he heard Potter whisper "bastard…" However, somewhere around the fifth floor, Severus discovered that Potter was staring at him oddly, contemplatively.

     "What?" He growled, glaring at the boy, and he immediately looked away, the silver flush returning.

     "Nothing…" Severus pointedly avoided looking back at Potter. And finally, three minutes later, they were at the office. Severus knocked.

     "Enter." Severus walked in solemnly, and sitting at his desk, Dumbledore’s face paled as his gaze fixated on something behind him.

     "No," he whispered.

     "Yes," Snape responded grimly and unshrank Harry’s body. Harry decided that now was a good time to resume ogling his lump of dead flesh.

     "What are we going to tell his friends? The Order?"

     "That he’s dead. What else?"

     "Severus! That is far too blunt! Not everyone is insensitive to the hard truth like you are!" Severus stiffened.

     "I beg your pardon, _Headmaster_ ," Severus hissed. "Just because I don’t let my pain _show_ , does not mean I don’t _feel_ it. And it is not like he isn’t still around to continue causing trouble, so I have no need to mourn." Dumbledore froze, then slumped in his seat, cupping his face in his hands.

     "I know," he groaned. "I’m sorry, Severus. It’s just a lot to take in."

     "What’s going to happen to the Dursleys?" Severus snapped. Harry perked up in interest. Anything bad happening to the Dursleys was a good thing for him. Personally, he thought they'd gotten off too lightly, even if they'd become the thing they feared the most. They did kill him, after all.

     "Well, they’re not magical, so they’ll have to be prosecuted through the muggle courts, and there’s no saying we'd even get his body back then." Severus smirked wickedly.

     "I think you’ll find that there is no longer a problem with that." Dumbledore’s eyes gleamed.

     "You succeeded? I thought you were still making that batch?" Snape glowered.

     "I was brewing a second batch, so I’d have extra to send to the Committee." Dumbledore nodded at that.

     "Good thing then that you did mess it up. If that comes out at the same time that Harry’s relatives are suddenly discovered to have magic with absolutely no control over it at all, then things could be thrown into doubt. Currently, there is supposedly no way to create magic in muggles, so let’s keep it that way for a few weeks longer."

     "Um, Professor?" Potter asked quietly. Dumbledore suddenly looked ten years older.

     "Harry, you’re no longer one of our students, so you are free to call us all by our given names," Albus stated sadly.

     "With all due respect, I’m not sure I’d feel all that comfortable doing that. Well, I’ll probably always call Snape Snape, but aside from him…" Albus gave a small smile.

     "You had a question for me?"

     "Er, yeah. I seem to still have magic."

     "What is that?" Dumbledore questioned, leaning closer.

     "I said, I still have magic. Of a sort, it seems. When I get very annoyed or angry, it gets cold and there is a chill wind."

     "Ah," Albus said quietly, leaning back in his chair. "It would appear that you have some control over the elements, then. What you will be able to do with that will need to be ascertained. In fact, while I myself am incapable of helping you there, perhaps Severus can train you."

     "Headmaster! You can’t just volunteer people!" Severus snarled, and Albus arched an eyebrow.

     "Do you have anything else to do?"

     "Yes! I have to rebrew that potion! It takes eight days, and-"

     "And you won’t be able to send it in for a while yet. While waiting, what’s the harm in teaching Harry a little?"

     "I’m a Fire Elemental. _Fire_. Completely incompatible with Ice and Wind! THe first muffles the other, while the other would augment it to the point of uncontrollability!"

     "But the theory behind controlling it is the same, is it not?"

     "Yes, and he was horrible at Occlumency!"

     "Now, how much of that was him, and how much of that was you?"

     "Mostly him! He wouldn’t even practice!" Albus sighed.

     "If Harry is going to stay at Hogwarts, then he is going to need to learn to control it. If he gets angry at young Malfoy, what’s to say that he won’t come out of it as a block of ice?" Severus stilled. He hadn’t thought of that. He rubbed the bridge of his nose; the decision was crystal clear, even if he didn't like it.

     "Fine. I’ll _try_ to teach him. If he won’t learn, then he won’t learn.” He conceded. “And at least as a ghost, he won’t be able to get into a pensive."

     "That sounds fair. What say you, my boy?"

     "That’s fine, sir. But, how does a person get into a ghost’s head?"

     "The same way I would get into a normal man’s head, Potter. The feel will be different, but the essence is the same." Snape growled. Harry nodded, then shifted slightly.

     "Er, I had one other question." He said slowly, directing this to Dumbledore.

     "Fire away!" Albus exclaimed in a fair facsimile of his normal exuberance.

     "Erm, where do ghosts stay when they’re not roaming around?"

     "That is a good question, Harry. I’m assuming you’re wanting to know where you’re going to be staying then?"

     "I thought we’d already settled this, Mr. Potter. You’ll be staying with Myrtle. She did offer three years ago, after all."

     "Severus!" Albus reprimanded, but when he turned to look at him, he found that his eyes were glinting with amusement, a rare thing. "Harry, ghosts don’t _need_ to sleep, par say. However, the ghosts still adjusting to it usually ask for someone to ward a bed for them, so they don’t fall through it. If you’d like…"

     "Yes, please." Harry said quickly.

     "Severus, if you don’t mind, it would be best if he stayed in your rooms."

     "And why is that?" Severus bit out, crossing his arms. "He wouldn’t be able to get out if he tried!"

     "You’re teaching him, remember? And you just have to make the password open your portrait from both sides."

     "Point," Severus sighed. "Right, Potter. We’re leaving." Severus swept to the door, and wrenched it open, bowing mockingly as Potter disgruntledly floated through. The door shut firmly, and Albus stared at it hollowly. He only hoped the two of them wouldn’t end up at each other’s throats. He sighed, and pulled over a roll of parchment and a quill. It was time he began his message to the DMLE. It was only too unfortunate that it would take about a fortnight for the papers to be processed, even if it did involve Harry Potter.


	4. The First Night

     Harry followed Snape through the castle, as the man grumbled under his breath. He was evidently back to his usual dour mood. However, surprise of all surprises, they only went down to the third floor, to the very hall that had been forbidden in his first year. Snape finally turned to look at him at this point, his sharp gaze promising an early second death.

     "If you so much as let slip a single _word_ about where my quarters _really_ are Potter," he growled, "let’s just say that I will gladly go through the arduous process of making torture devices capable of hurting you." Snape turned back to the portrait of an old man in blue pajamas.

     "Good day, Sir Farrell." The man nodded, mouthing something that made Harry dearly wish he’d taken the time to learn lip reading. Unsurprisingly, Snape seemed to have taken the initiative to attain such mastery, for he nodded in confirmation. Huh. Man of many talents. Snape then answered the mute portrait, revealing the topic of conversation. "Thank you for the security report. However, I’m afraid I am going to have to increase it further, due to a new pest. I apologize in advance. _Silencio explícito signum_!" The old man howled silently for a moment, clapping his hands over his ears. "Gryffindor." The blue-clad man scowled at him with thin lips, before the portrait opened, and Snape stepped inside. Twelve seconds later, he returned for the still gaping boy in the threshold. "Come along Potter. Unlike you, I do not have all day." That pulled Harry out of his shock.

     "Your password is _Gryffindor_?" He rasped in disbelief. Snape sneered.

     "If someone somehow managed to figure out these were my quarters, what would be the odds that they would guess my password is _Gryffindor_? I make a point to always name my password as something either related to that infernal house, to you or Longbottom, or some other topic like Quidditch that everyone knows I detest. Moving on, if you tell the password to the back of the portrait, it will open for you. That’s all the portrait _can_ hear now, on either side. He was already mute anyway, a complete necessity on my part after the first portrait I was assigned. Portraits are _gossips_." Snape moved towards a hall on the opposite side of the room, and this time, Harry made sure to follow, deciding he would have plenty of time to explore Snape’s quarters later. Snape passed two doors, not explaining what they were. He reached for the handle of the third, then paused, and looked back sternly over his shoulder at him.

     "The spell it takes to let an object be impenetrable and interactive with a ghost is incredibly draining, and takes an extremely powerful wizard to cast. It’s a miracle that I am capable of doing it all in the first place, and I have no idea how the Founders were able to do it on such a massive scale." Snape cleared his throat, before pinning him with a very stern look. "Suffice to say, if this spell didn’t make me pass out after casting it from the sheer power involved in making something accessible in multiple dimensions, you would never come into my rooms at all, and after today you never shall, either."

     "If you can’t touch me, then how will you manage that?" Harry questioned, feeling both defiant and curious at the same time. He was not expecting the almost evil smirk that sent shivers down his phantom spine, however.

     "I know the proper spells to take care of ghosts and all the problems they either have or create Potter, and don’t forget it." And with that, Snape opened the door and ushered him in. Harry looked around with some surprise. Certainly, the other contents of his rooms had been rather predictable (potion books, potion ingredients, and green, silver, and black galore), but this décor did not follow the same strain at all. It gave him the feeling that the rest of the area was only for show, and this was who Snape _really_ was. _This_ room was decorated in shades of blue and black, and there was a ceiling much like the Great Hall’s, but only showing stars rather than sunlight. The walls were hardly visible behind the multitude of bookcases crammed along the edges. The bed, amusingly, was soft with a white feather quilt on top, along with several throw pillows.

     "We will go over the rules when both of us are conscious again," Snape stated, then began. He tossed one of the white pillows to the corner of the room. He transfigured it into a bed, then began chanting. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but as the moments passed, it seemed to gain a wispy, wavering appearance, then the aura around it solidified, turning it a shade of watery blue growing more apparent every moment. Snape was certainly showing the strain of being drained from the effort; it was obvious in his stance, the slumping of his shoulders, the sweat on his brow, and the increasing shaking of his wand. And was it him, or did his already sallow skin seem to pale to a pure white that almost glowed under the stars? Finally, there was a flash of light, and Snape staggered, before falling to his knees, breathing harshly. Harry watched in silence as he pooled his remaining strength, and using the leg of the nightstand, pulled himself up, walked across the room using the wall for support, and flopped onto his mattress. He was out like a light.

     Harry floated to his own bed. He reached out a tentative hand, and was amazed when he was actually able to _feel_ it for what it was, rather than being blocked off by a moderately firm boundary that always sprang back. Everything else blocking him had felt relatively solid, but slippery, much like two magnets repelling each other.

     Harry pulled the covers back, and lay down, his eyes returning to Snape’s dark form slumped on his own bed, illuminated by the starlight. Unabashedly he stared, eyes drawn to him like an injured bird lying unconscious on the newly fallen snow. He was surprised and amazed at the difference peace made on Snape. His pale skin was even paler in this light, possibly whiter than his own right now. His back slowly rose and fell as he quietly breathed, and a few wisps of his dark hair fell into his face. For once his features were evened out into a soft expression, all the lines on his face smoothed over. He seemed to have lost at least ten years, and for the first time, he truly realized just how young his professor really _was_. He suddenly found he was not tired; he was wide awake, and restless. He slipped out of his sheets, and floated closer. _Snape couldn’t bite him right now,_ he assured himself. He stared down at Snape, just a few scant inches away. He couldn’t explain what it was he was feeling. It was burning him from the inside, yet frigid, a blazing inferno of frozen flames. He’d felt it a few times before, but had always pushed it away, assuming that it was nothing more than loathing. But now he could tell that that was most certainly _not_ the case. Though what it was, he had no idea, other than the fact that it felt...forbidden. Snape’s breathing was making a few strands of hair move, and his nose wrinkled in his sleep as it tickled him. Harry smiled and reached out reflexively, to tuck Snape’s fallen hair behind his ears. However, his hand went straight through Snape’s face, and in his sleep, Snape shivered. Harry quickly retracted his hand and retreated to his own bed, and he fell into an uneasy sleep, his first since becoming a ghost.

* * *

     When Harry next woke, Snape’s bed was empty, impeccably made. He sat up and stretched, then yawning, he floated up out of bed and landed on the floor on his feet. He grinned. This ghost thing could be useful. But then he touched the exit door, and it was impenetrable. Harry groaned. When Snape said that living quarters all had the wards on them, he must have meant that all the walls inside, not just the outer boundaries, had them. He looked around. Perhaps he could use the bed like a battering ram? No, that would take too long, and it quite possibly would just bounce off like he already did. He approached the door. Maybe...maybe there was a place on the door, a hole that went all the way through? He took a close look at the door. Yes, there were many pores in it. Well, if Myrtle could compact herself to fit through pipes, then surely he could also compress himself to fit through this door! He reached out a finger and poked the door. It tapped the wood soundlessly. Struck by new curiosity, he raised a hand and knocked on the door. Still no sound. He sighed. It seemed that these wards, while they felt solid to him, they were really nothing of the sort and therefore he could make no noise on them.

     According to Snape, these special wards were on only the solid parts of the boundaries, like the walls, leaving gaps like piping completely wardless. So he ought to have been able to go through the hole. The only question was, _how_ to get through. Obviously, there was a trick to it…He remembered the trick Snape had told about long-distance teleporting for ghosts, and wondered if it was the same sort of thing. He pressed his finger to one of the pores and imagined a tiny wooden tunnel, and the room on the other side. Nothing happened. He pushed his finger as hard as he could, but it seemed he couldn’t simply force his way through. And suddenly, the door swung outwards, revealing Snape, who looked momentarily startled before returning to his usual stoic self.

     "You actually have to imagine _yourself_ slipping through the gap, Potter," Snape sniped. Harry’s eyes narrowed.

     "How do you know so much about handling ghosts and being one in the first place, anyway?" Snape paused, and Harry managed to catch an emotion much like disgruntledness slip across his features for just a moment before it vanished.

     "In my sixth year, I was very interested in ghosts. I read everything I could on them, seeing them as a potential advantage, much like house-elves. Just as house-elves can go through wizard wards, so can ghosts. there are also other benefits, like spells going straight through you, and being able to slip through  walls." Snape paused. "Other students caught on to my interest, and your _father_ ," Snape spat the word, "he found an obscure spell that could turn people into ghosts, as the spell to move objects into that dimension would not work on living things. At the time, there was no counter-spell, and I had to formulate one quickly if I was going to return to a semblance of life. Naturally, it was hushed up, modifying spells all around so no one could learn of it and use it in the war, which meant Potter senior was never punished. However, they couldn't manage to make me forget, and some attributes stuck."

     "Like what?" Harry asked, quite curious now. Snape suddenly glared at him.

     "That’s not for you to know, Potter," he snapped, and stormed out, slamming the portrait door behind him. Harry shook his head. Apparently, this was a sore subject for him. And he’d thought Snape was always in a black mood as it was!


End file.
